“I have a fleece throw in my bag,” I said. “It’s Wilbur’s, but he’ll share it with me, I’m sure. As long as I have this one by my side, I’ll be fine.” Wilbur was out of his carrier and on my lap. I’d meant him, but also Jefferson.
“Then campsite it is.”
The sky was black by the time we arrived. It was muggy and cloudy, not a star to be seen. Patrick started a fire. We’d stopped for hot dogs and buns, marshmallows, Hershey bars, and graham crackers. I sure wouldn’t have to worry about going to bed hungry. We chatted some more and sang. Jefferson joined in on “Amazing Grace.” Wilbur joined in on “Climb Every Mountain” from The Sound of Music.
“Watch this,” I said. Skipping to the higher notes at the end, I knew my little buddy would join me there with a howl. He liked the high notes—or ha
